


inked

by opheliahyde



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 23:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12828213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliahyde/pseuds/opheliahyde
Summary: Vanessa has written a story on her skin.





	inked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waspnests](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waspnests/gifts).



> For the prompt _tattoo_.

The first tattoo she gets is a purple butterfly on her lower back—cliche, a tramp stamp, ink curling out from the waistband of her jeans when she bends over, marking her. She gets it when she’s eighteen and old enough to make her own choices, kicked out on her own by the government because eighteen meant she was grown now, though in a lot of ways she felt like a child still, left to figure out her own way. She liked it, liked claiming her body as her own and not belonging to foster family after foster family, owned for a check cut from the state. She readily passed over her hard-earned cash to be stuck with needles until the butterfly’s wings spread across her back, like unfurling from a cocoon—reborn and beautiful.

 

 

 

Seth traces the lines marked across the base of her spine as she touches the flames that go up his arm, wondering at what made him want that, to go under the needle and cover his arm in fire, but he’s silent on the meaning— _got drunk in New Orleans, that’s all_ , he whispers against her mouth, kissing her to silence her questions, sliding the palm of his hand to cover her butterfly.

He kisses it after the first time they fuck, mouthing down her ribs to her hips, twisting her around to lay his mouth there, licking the valley of her vertebrate. _It suits you_ , he says, as he winds his arms around her, fingers finding the wings again, stroking across the expanse, _I like it_.

Seth’s the first to say that and it makes her heart melt a little more for him, opening up her chest to let him in, his voice soft and vulnerable in her ear, honest—not a fake compliment with the taste of disdain underneath, _no it makes you look trashy._  

Vanessa kisses him for that, running her fingers through his hair.

 

 

 

The second is a simple black gecko above her hip that she got in Vegas while twirling her new wedding ring around her finger, Seth asleep in their hotel suite when she couldn’t, wandering out onto the stip in the bright early morning sunlight, finding her way into the tattoo shop.

She thought about getting his name, bad luck be damned–liked the thought of being claimed, marked as belonging, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, the band around her finger throbbing, a bit too tight. The gecko is its own kind of brand, tail curling into the juncture of her hip, tiny arms stretching across her waist. She thanks the artist and hands him part of her cut from the take and walks back to their hotel.

Vanessa doesn’t tell Seth until he undresses her hours later, can’t keep his hands off her, kissing Mrs. Gecko into her skin even though she has no plans to change her name because it’s hers. Seth lowers her to the bed after he pulls off her shirt and takes off her jeans, her underwear and sees the gecko, wrapped up in saran wrap, still raw, fresh, like their marriage, ink barely dried. 

His fingers are soft when he touches it, petting its back with near-reverence and she wants to hear him say something, make a noise, cheeks burning red, the flush running down her bare body, throbbing between her legs. Seth doesn’t speak, but presses his mouth to her cunt, licking into her with appreciation as his hand lays over her gecko.

 

 

 

(she wants to remove it after she signs the divorce papers, a few years later, the ink itching her hip, but she doesn’t, she keeps it as a reminder, a memory marker to keep her from making the same mistake again)

 

 

 

The last tattoo is a set of lines marking out how long she spent in prison until they came for her at the base of her neck—a line for each month, nearly reaching twenty-four, black and solid, visible every time she pulls her hair up.

She bleaches her hair and she stays, not because she wants to, not because she’s still hoping, but because she’s got nowhere else. Seth never says he’s sorry and Vanessa didn’t expect him to, they both made their own choices and they both had to live with them, but she won’t let him forget his.

He doesn’t touch this ink, avoids it like it burns, his flames now licking up his throat, reiterating and emphasizing who matters and who doesn’t. 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://richiesseth.tumblr.com)!


End file.
